


kairos

by ProwlingThunder



Series: no shadows without the light [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Historian Sith, I made another OC because of this, Sith Temple Ruins, Star Wars: Sequel Trilogy Era, Technically This Is Set Just Before A New Hope, Worldbuilding, sith history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29247891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: There’s nothing about it, not before nor after. It just vanishes.Nothing just vanishes.Trazlin did. Apparently.
Series: no shadows without the light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147592
Kudos: 2





	kairos

**Author's Note:**

> Also noooot canon to his storyline, but what's life without fifty million AUs?

Trazlin is a dead world. 

Nothing lives here and nothing grows. It has an irregular orbit, alternating between too hot for flora and way too cold, and the soil is highly acidic to a point where there are no known things growing here, according to the geosurvey reports he finds about it. There’s also only two very slim periods where the temperature is ripe for growing. If one were a very determined alchemist, perhaps, with the right plants and the right equipment to build sufficient housing, they could farm here, live here. 

Eurynome isn’t one of those alchemists. It’s good luck only that has him here, in the shadow of a mountain during the beginning of the world’s spring. Good luck, and two passing mentions in  _ Jen’ari  _ Aunsia’s scarce history. He  _ had _ been an alchemist and a sorcerer, with nothing much to his name except a rumor he had learned to see the future.

It had been of interest to his master, but that was really all that had come up. If it were at all possible, there was  _ less _ information on Aunsia than there was on Trazlin; even Trazlin was only mentioned once in an early report of his holdings, and Eurynome did not want to know how she had gotten her hands on that.

It shouldn’t have been mentioned if it was nothing. It wouldn’t have been mentioned at all, if it  _ were _ nothing. 

He has no idea what he’s looking for, honestly, even when he leaves his ship behind and goes to poke around. The Force is so thick and dense here he can barely sense anything beyond his own self, and he thinks that’s probably part of the reason it just. Stopped coming up. Trazlin never shows up in another Sith’s holdings, not anywhere, at any point in time. There’s  _ nothing  _ about it, not before nor after. It just vanishes.

_ Nothing just vanishes. _

Trazlin did. Apparently. There are few enough scientific journals about this planet that he could hold them all in one hand. That doesn’t happen.

Which means it was deliberate. Someone wanted it to be forgotten. Someone wanted everyone to stay away. Someone wanted it to not exist. Even he hadn’t thought of it in  _ decades. _

Until he did. And he had come here. He didn’t know if it was intuition or the Force or his brain grasping at straws, but he had felt the need to come here. Even if all it ended up being was a way to get out of the universe for a while.

He didn’t think it was. From the rest of the solar system, Trazlin felt wholly and inexplicably empty in the Force. It wasn’t until he was here that he’d realized how wrong it was. And if no one but those who couldn’t  _ feel _ it only ever came…

Trazlin was a dead world. On the surface. But beyond that, pulsing, beating, so strong he couldn’t hear himself think…

It wasn’t a nexus, and it wasn’t a void. Beneath the surface, Trazlin was a Heart of the Force, tangled and knotted muscle. Beneath,  _ inside, _ the planet?

This was Aunsia’s secret.

It took time. Days, weeks maybe. Trying to feel along the strands of the Force and unravel them was an impossible task; it wasn’t a knot to be undone, and it wasn’t a leyline which could lead him to a secret. Eurynome hunted along the ancestral paths for Aunsia’s temple, using what scraps he could remember of the man’s histories; he hunted until he finally found the path.

Though  _ path _ was being generous. Nothing he found could be considered a marked pathway. No, instead he found..

Well. It wasn’t a ghost. An impression, maybe, of a figure crossing a space that had long since become a canyon, and working their way down a steep path, and then across…

If not for his mother’s blood,  _ climbing _ would have been…

But he found where the stone had shifted and reshaped throughout the millennia, and he clawed at stone and broke it down and worked until he had hollowed a passage large enough for him to squeeze through. And then he’d found the path.

It wasn't very ornate, this far, but the decorations probably had been destroyed by the wear of ages. He wouldn't have been particularly surprised if  _ most _ all the temple had corroded, considering the age Aunsia had come from; Eurynome had seen newer structures in such states of decay that it was impossible to think they were grand anythings. But something had survived, at least, in the shape of spiraling marks carved into the walls of the cave. He lit a lamp carefully and raised it above him; a pair of Force crystals and a beam emitter and a few lenses and a filter. It produced a rather remarkable, remarkable product, throwing pale blue light over everything. A remarkable work of ingenuity. 

Granted, it was a lot brighter than it was  _ supposed to be, _ but that felt like it was significantly less important at the moment, so he set the thought aside and made his way down into the earth. The tunnel went on for miles, delving deeper into the earth at every curve. He was by no means claustrophobic, but it still felt like  _ too much; _ too much pressure, gravity, the raw amount of history above his head. Planets had their own, without any other type of life to tell them how to develop; he knows a little bit of how to study that history, but only really in the ways it intersects with his own interests. He would much rather be digging up bones than trying to figure out when a volcano was born. Trying to decide how deep he was, how long it must have been since this was the surface of the world.. It was an exercise in nightmares. He shunts it away in favor of walking.

And walking.

And  _ walking… _

Walking ends, eventually, but by that time he is faced with an ancient door, one he knows inexplicably will not move to the Force unless he means to shatter it. With as much Force as permeates the very air, Eury had his doubts about any sole Sith being able to shatter this stone.

It leaves him to solve the riddle of how it works instead, which is arguably better. Forgotten,  _ primordial _ riddles; Aunsia predates so much history and only Sith who care about it had managed to preserve as little as they did. 

He wants to  _ know. _ More than that, he wants what Aunsia was working on, whatever it is.

It can  _ help. _

The temple is massive, filled with workrooms and shrines and at least one room for holocron storage, every shade in the spectrum glowing in a dazzling display that requires every ounce of willpower to leave behind.

There will be time later. More important now is that he has  _ never seen _ a temple like this in his life. The whole place simply spans forever, dense honeycomb rooms nestled together in endless hexagons. There’s so much here. Years, decades would not scratch the surface of how much needs to be recorded. 

It’s a lifetime’s worth of work. A stars-blessed gift for a historian who hungered for it.

There is no time, for now. But there will be. Later. He continues onward. He isn’t sure what he is looking for, but he  _ must _ find it.

It is his mistake.

The Force comes crashing against him, crushing against him, as if the whole temple has collapsed with the glare from a supernova. It crashes into him,  _ inside _ him, like an ocean into a river; he’s so full of it, of the Force, so powerful he could tear asunder banks, continents,  _ whole worlds. _

So much.

Too much.

It  _ hurts. _

Every bit of him is filled beyond the brim, every cell, every atom, stretching beyond its capacity, and he can’t feel anything else, can’t feel his own collapse, the way he curls in on himself, body devolved back to the fetal position as if deriving the most ancient safety of his mother’s womb can somehow absolve him of this. He can feel nothing but this.

And then it’s gone.

He feels nothing.

No. He doesn’t feel nothing. It’s worse.

He feels empty. He feels  _ alone. _

His father is human but his mother is Firrerreo; Forcebonds connect them like webs of durasteel, threading the clan together from the moment the mind exists enough to  _ be. _ Not a day has gone by in his life where he has been without her.

She’s gone.

His brothers and sisters.

His master.

His daughter, the brightest star of his life, his coalescing nebula, fierce and bright and friend of the Force, his strongest, most precious bond--

They’re gone. They’re all gone.

He shudders through it, reaching out for them, bleeding out into the Force.

No one reaches back.


End file.
